Chemical 854
by Alimagis
Summary: You wake up with no memory of anything thats happened, but you do remember one thing. Zombies roam the earth.


Chapter 1

Pain rips through his head with mind numbing pain. His first instinct is to curl up and die from the pain, but something stops him. This instinct screaming at him to open his eyes and move. Opening them proves difficult. Dirt and blood have crusted over his eyes and it is painful to move and clean them. Slowly they quiver, each quiver shinning a spec of light through. It hurts. He can feel cuts on his eye lids that have begun their healing process. Tears drip from his eyes. It's like he's seeing the world for the first time all over again. The pavement is hard and cold. A flipped all black SUV lays with shattered widows as immovable as his legs feel. It sits dead. Not willing to move or even provide shelter. Next to it a fire hydrant busted open. The red lid torn off and the inside probably containing nothing but fragments of clothing or filth from the street. Gathering strength he tries to push himself up. Suddenly, he gags deeply feeling like if someone had reached into his throat and wanted to pull it out. The smell of death fills the air like nothing ever could. Then it hits him. Flashes of the dead drilled into his head to the point of pain staking insanity. Then it becomes clear, the reality that flesh eating, gut feasting, and blood chilling fact. The dead have risen.

My first reaction is to listen for footsteps telling me if it's safe to breathe let alone move. I force my body to relax and to calm my now racing heartbeat. Many people died just by screwing up and tripping over a small object they could've easily stepped over, but how did he know that. How did he know everything that had happened but not my name or age? Certain thoughts dawned on him that rules and strategies were in play. He had to live by these rules or he would most certainly die. Snapping in the distance breaks me away from the thoughts of survival. My heart begins to beat faster until I come to the realization that it is fire burning. A small child races through my mind. A small girl no more than five or six years of age stands in front of him sporting a long tee-shirt with Pink Floyd written on it. She has long silky smooth blond hair and skin as smooth as any fine fabric. She catches him with her large green eyes as she struts around showing off her new tee-shirt.

"How does it look?" She asks twisting and turning around in a supermodel walk. Hordes of the undead slash through his memory. Their pale hands covered in dry blood, full of the thirst and hunger for human consumption. The need to feed is one of the most basic human functions. Zombies are different. Their need to feed is fueled by a virus that is transferred by contact. Any contact that consists of a simple scrape of the nail or a bite from the horrid beasts is enough for the plague to dwell inside you, kill you, and reanimate you giving you only one rule to live by. Feed. He suddenly remembered hearing news casters trying to explain the virus .A new anti-virus called Chemical 854. He couldn't remember anything about Chemical 854. All he knew is that he needed to get up and move. Get low and quiet as fast as possible.

Getting up slowly he remained in a crouching position. He could feel fatigue overwhelm his body. His head ached and throbbed with pain. Trying to push the pain away he was confronted with a dead body behind him. He wore black tactical outfit complete with combat boots and a 9mm. holstered on his left side. Reaching for it he noticed his hands were covered with scrapes and gashes. Scabs already formed and beginning the healing process. The man's face was scraped off. He decided that his face was peeled off due to the SUV flipping and ejecting him. Not because some zombie had devoured his face. Looking around it was late in the day. The sun had begun its decent. Quietly scouting the area he decided to head north. Sticking to alleyways and cutting through stores he came face to face with a motel.

"Family owned since 1855" It read above the main entrance which was shielded by cracked glass, blood, and darkness inside. Getting closer he saw a body torn in halves. Her intestine stringing past his lower body leaking some kind of bodily juice made an offal stench. He placed his hand over his nose and mouth staring at the ragged body. He could film in his mind the events that led to her death. Her shoe at the door told him the zombie had grabbed her ankle and ripped it off, or possibly she had tripped creating a noise. Her toes dead and curled to a point of snapping off.

"She died slowly, poor girl." She seemed middle age and from what he could tell she was blond. The meat in her face yanked off. Her mouth stretched over and had snapped from what he could tell. There was no way she would return as a zombie. She was beyond that point. The torn clothes and blood stained floor and wall told a story in his head. She died with a zombie eating her. Bleed to death.

"The pain she must've felt," He thought to himself. Shaking his head at the corpse he walked around listening to the dark distance the smell began to trail off. After an hour of searching he decided to call it a night. He didn't want to over exert himself. Who knew when he would eat? Going into room 117 it was the cleanest. The room was preserved. Food in the fridge and a comfortable twin bed sat quietly with a light coat of dust. Closing the door and locking it twice and double checking he attacked the refrigerator. There was rotten milk and molded cheese in it. Picking out the rotted food he found a milk gallon full of moonshine. He also found a tube of cookie dough, along with hard bread. Popping the top of the tube he ate the dough. The chocolate chips crunching between his teeth tasted amazing. Besides making his mouth dry he rather enjoyed it. On the wall of a room there stood a clock which read 8:37. Besides the bed and fridge the room was barren. A small closet which stood open and nothing inside sat in the corner of the room. He tried to fill his mind with the small girl, but failed to do so. She was calming and soothing. He liked the fact of being with her wearing his Pink Floyd shirt. Quietly cleaning off the bed as best he could he laid down closing his eyes and tucking his hand, as well as the gun, under his pillow. Closing his eyes he tried to remember what had happened to the SUV. He knew he was in it but couldn't remember the conversation in it. He knew the driver was Lt. James Walsh. A Navy Seal with a knack of getting out of tight situations. He was trained by Ex-C.I.A. agent Harper. Harper was a quiet man and didn't like conversation. He smoked a little pot with a cigarette after to calm his nerves. He remembered a laptop on his lap. He couldn't remember the screen but knew he had one. He saw Harper turn to him with his deep dark eyes.

"Listen to me we're not going to make it out of the city. Everything just went to hell to fast." Harper turned away looking out of the cracked windshield. He looked down at his hands and then out the window. There were thousands of people trying to break through the city wall and escape a fate that was already written for them.

"Please remain calm, after you have been checked and scanned for the virus you will move forward accordingly." A man said into the speaker. They protested louder. Pushing and inching their way forward Walsh shook his head slowly.

"I hope they don't decide to use live rounds, seems inevitable though." He said slowly moving the SUV forward.

"At least they'll get in order." Harper said coldly.

"But at the expense of human lives?" He said interrupting the two.

"You're not out there dealing with the virus, and those things. If you could see the things I've seen you wouldn't think so rationally." Harper uttered with a bad taste in his mouth.

"Sorry Doc, I agree with Harper on this one. The Virus is spreading faster than we could kill. It's only been hours since the virus escaped and look were the hell we landed in. I bet my ridiculous salary that they'll lockdown the entire city." Walsh admitted.

"Did you hear that it spread to the western seaboard already?" Harper said tapping Walsh on the shoulder.

"Already, how is any of that even possible?" He questioned to Harper.

"Ok, I'll give you the rundown Doc." Harper said with no expression. "Chemical 854 is an anti-virus used with a chemical balance that I couldn't even begin to explain. Soon after human testing the body rejected the new serum. A crazed test subject bit a doctor and the doctor bit a nurse and soon after a domino effect took place. It's only been 17 hours since the virus started to spread and well over half the city population have become infected. There's two effective ways to kill these things, a shot to the head or destroying the central nervous system."

"Snapping the neck." He answered. Harper shook his head.

"Don't be afraid to put an extra bullet in the head. Things like that could save your ass."

"Harper look!" Walsh yelled pointing and getting everyone's attention. A man with a trench coat had opened his coat revealing multiple bars of c-4 strapped to his chest.

"The day of reckoning has come! Take what sow!" Before the explosion irrupted he shot up with beads of sweat pouring off of him. He searched the dark room hoping that it was a bad dream. He didn't want to think that what he had dreamed was actually what had happened. It did explain a few things, but where did the other body guard go.

"I'm a Doctor?" He said quietly to himself. He got up feeling the sweat drip down his head. Suddenly glass had cracked outside of his door. Someone or something was just outside his door. The knob slowly turned. It creaked with each forceful turn it made. The Doctor grabbed his gun and aimed it at the door. Ready and waiting for the undead to pour into his room and claim his body for themselves. The door knob turned frantically now like if it was someone's last chance of survival. Against his better judgment he peeked through the peep hole. A women with a blanket cried drastically.


End file.
